“Same,” Mom D says flatly, like she’s finally as tired of it all as I am for them. My moms run their own construction company in Gnome Alaska. It’s a male-dominated industry, filled with a lot of macho dudes who don’t know what to do with a married lesbian couple telling them what to do. Also, Mom Z inherited her parents’ small fishing lodge and she manages that. It makes vacations and holidays hell. But they’re both workaholics, so they’re happy.
“You still planning a vacation in April?” I ask.
“We will be at the last game of your regular season, as always,” Mom Z promises.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mom D confirms. “Give that cat of yours a kiss for us.”
“I don’t kiss Max,” I wrinkle my nose at the thought. “And he’s not my cat.”
“Uh-huh…” they reply in unison and then, before I can argue further Mom Z adds, “Love you son. Talk soon.”
And they hang up.
I drop my phone on the couch beside me and gingerly reach for my scotch again, trying not to disturb Max. After successfully obtaining the tumbler and taking a sip, my thoughts inexplicably drift to Felicity. She must have found her Secret Santa gift today. I wonder how annoyed it made her. I hope she got all flushed and bothered… I bet she looks incredible with some pink in her cheeks. I wonder if she flushes when she masturbates? And now I’m picturing her laid out on her bed, naked and dewy after a shower maybe. Her fingers sliding over her taut pale skin, to that perfect spot between her legs. And…
My phone rings again. Scaring both me and my boner. When I startle, Max jumps and scurries off the couch and directly under it. He’s still a bit skittish from being abandoned and living on the streets. “I’m sorry buddy! It’s okay. You can come out.”
My phone continues to jingle beside me, and I glance at the screen. It’s my manager, Todd Baylord. I have no idea why he’d be calling me at all, let alone so late on a weekday. If I didn’t have a no trade clause, I’d be panicking a little. No one wants an unexpected late night call from an agent or manager when they play pro sports. Never a good sign.
“Todd?” I say as I accept the call. “Everything okay?”
“No,” he says bluntly, which isn’t at all like him. I sit straighter and brace myself. “I just got a call from Maureen.”
“Maureen?” My brain scrambles to figure out who that is. It’s vaguely familiar.
“Maureen Callahan. Your agent Rick’s wife,” Todd explains. “Rick had a heart attack. He’s dead, Nolan.”
“Oh shit,” I gasp. Rick was older, sure but had seemed like he was in great shape. And he said his job kept him going. He never wanted to retire. And now he never will. “Oh my God, poor Maureen and the kids.”
“Yeah. It’s rough,” Todd agrees. “And I wanted to let you know firsthand. So you didn’t hear it in the news or anything.”
“I’ll call her in the next few days,” I promise. “And be at the funeral if I can, of course. And send something.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep you posted on all that too. But Nolan,” Todd says his voice changing, growing even more repentant as he adds. “This means you’re agentless. You’ll need to rectify that sooner rather than later. With your contract coming up at the end of the season and the struggle going on right now with the team… you need someone strong like Rick was. Someone who knows your worth and will fight for you.”
“Yeah. I just… it’s not the time to focus on that.”
“Agreed. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t at least mention it,” Todd replies. “I’ll keep you posted on funeral details. And condolences, Nolan. I know he was with you from the start.”
“Yeah. Thanks. But let’s focus on Maureen. They were together forty years. I can’t even imagine that loss,” I reply and then thank him again and end the call.
I drop my head back against the couch and put down my scotch, no longer interested in the booze. Rick Callahan was my agent from the time I was seventeen. He was kind and fatherly. Well, more like grandfatherly since he was already sixty when he signed me. But he was a constant. And he never steered me wrong. I feel this loss on a multitude of levels.
Max jumps back onto the couch and climbs right into my lap. He stares up at me blinking. Lets out one soft meow, like he’s trying to offer me condolences too, and then curls up directly in the middle of my lap.
Well, tonight took a turn, and the world feels a little dimmer without Rick. I hate to admit it, but I think in this case, I wish my moms were right and I had someone to talk to about the heavy stuff like this. Someone who doesn’t also wear skates for a living or manage the people who do.
I sigh and pet Max until he starts to purr again.
Chapter 7
Felicity
“Oh! I adore this song!” I gush and take the garland I’m holding and dance around the tiny space that is my living room.
Ellery laughs at me from her position tucked into the corner of my L-shaped couch. She’s got my Christmas throw blanket, forest green with sparkly off-white snowflakes on it, wrapped around her. She is begrudgingly still wearing the Santa hat I gave her when she walked in the door. Ellery doesn’t hate Christmas, but I know she only volunteered to hang out and help me decorate my apartment because I said I’d make my infamous Cranberry spice martinis.
“Maybe Nolan is right and you are a rabid, little elf,” Ellery laughs as Michael Bublé croons “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” and I continue to dance.
